If you are receiving this, my deadman's switch has triggered meaning it has been 48 hours since I checked in with the neural net or a beacon picked up a confirmation that my ship was destroyed. I am either dead, floating in an escape pod in space, or captured. To all enemies of Gallia or friends of the crown, I ask for your assistance. I am broadcasting my last uploaded flight plan along with my personal logs in the hope that there is a clue somewhere in there that will lead you me, whatever my fate. Good luck to us all, and I hope to see you soon. Newport out.
***UPLOADING FLIGHT PLAN***
ORIGIN - PLANET SPRAGUE, OMEGA-3, BORDER WORLDS SPACE
DESTINATION - PLANET LEEDS, LEEDS SYSTEM, BRETONIA SPACE
ROUTE - OMEGA-3>CAMBRIDGE>DUBLIN>(ERR: NO JUMP GATE ON FLIGHT PATH)>LEEDS
CARGO - N/A
VESSEL - SERIES YX "DROMEDARY" BORDER WORLDS FREIGHTER
VESSEL DESIGNATION - PUDDLE JUMPER
***ADDITIONAL UPLOAD***
TYPE - LOG FILE
I'm flying up from Sprague with the Puddle Jumper to meet up with a Junker inbound to Cambridge with Leeds casualties. I had just evac'd the last of the refugees on base in the Vow to Thee. Apparently, the balloon has gone up and the bombardment of Leeds has begun. I snuck out in the smog clouds so I never saw the planet, but Puddle Jumper's crew did. It... changed them. They were always mercurial. Very eat, drink, and be merry for tomorrow we may all be dead. But this, this was terrifying. It was like seeing all of the charm and wit that made them human had been completely drained, leaving them a shell of just Bretonian stiff upper lip enveloping a void.
I guess I'll see soon enough. We're meeting up with the "Shady Goods." He's a pilgrim liner so I'll be playing the role of ferry captain today. Part of me thinks I should stay on Sprague. Hudson says I've already done my part and then some and should just wait out this last part of the war as we shut down the bases and hit the lights. But those are my people on that planet, and I'll be damned if I sit idle while I can still do something to save them. Even if it kills me.
It will be a while before we sort out who's alive and dead when all this is done. I have no idea about my family and friends. Who's kicking back in a refugee camp and who was buried under a collapsed bunker three months ago. I just hope when this is all done, I'll have someone to share a drink with, before we begin the task of rebuilding.
Maybe we can rebrand as the "Leeds Reconstruction Forces." We wouldn't have to order new stationery. I'd like that, sitting in a mining ship, slowly de-toxing the system one cargo hold at a time. I'll never live to see it finished, but society prospers when old men plant trees they'll never rest under. I suppose this war has made an old man out of me, not even 30 yet. Still, I would be content with that. Even just thinking that this war will end, will truly end, is a novel thought. I've been fighting so long, it will be good to have some rest.
Entering convoy with the Junker. I'll stop here and finish the rest once I'm done with this next batch. Who knows, they may be the last ones out of Leeds. There's a grim thought. I'll just dump it in the buffer and edit this out later I guess.
![[Image: 143g6sg.jpg]](http://i65.tinypic.com/143g6sg.jpg)